dccxxiv

What I’m doing now is write.
                                     —John Ashbery

A lot of coming

and, I suppose,

going, on this
paper here.

India, Philadelphia,
Colorado, Los Angeles.

Fell on a dork.
Outside swishes

now smile, an acorn.
Is that your answer

ain’t funny. Oh, but
I was so ready to leave,

to sleep. To rap it, love.
.... Rabid love.

Wrap it up in a poetry
security. Play with it

more (“...rampant ...rampart...”).
Came on the couch;

comely, rapid. Calypsos,
what a trip! Came

more than went. Collapses.
What an oaky mesh!